


Never Should Have Left Home

by cadkitten



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Drabble, Gen, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 05:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19805995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: It's happened again and this time Neil isn't entirely certain he hasn't gone mad and this isn't just some figment of his imagination. The entire parking lot is alive with half the students from their dorm and every light in the lot has been broken. Head lights, over head lights, the parking lot lights. Neil thinks it looks a lot like something from everyone's collective nightmares.





	Never Should Have Left Home

**Author's Note:**

> For Andreil Week 2019 - Day 8 Rain | Bare Skin | Broken Glass  
> Listening to: Good Old War - Tell Me What You Want From Me

It's happened again and this time Neil isn't entirely certain he hasn't gone mad and this isn't just some figment of his imagination. The entire parking lot is alive with half the students from their dorm and every light in the lot has been broken. Head lights, over head lights, the parking lot lights. Neil thinks it looks a lot like something from everyone's collective nightmares. 

Rain slicks the pavement and the world around him almost seems to shimmer with the downpour and the crescendo of frantic voices and here he is, standing beside Andrew's car, cuts on both his hands and something that feels like guilt rolling in his stomach. 

He ran. Ran just like he always does when things start to make a home in his chest. He ran and he thinks he must have fallen pretty hard to find himself standing in the parking lot amidst this mess and have no idea how he got here at all. 

He wants to wake up and he wants the rain to just be a staccato above him on the dormitory roof. He wants to beg Andrew to run away with him this time. He wants to be sure this wasn't _him_.

His knees ache and he thinks he remembers flashes of the past few days. He remembers a dirty warehouse floor and when he moves his hands to his sides he can feel the results of the boots he recalls with startling clarity. He sinks to the ground next to Andrew's car and he tilts his head up and lets the rain pound down on him, his eyes closed and his entire world at war with itself. 

He thinks this is his warning. All the lights out and the darkness flooding in. He just can't decide if it's supposed to be a warning about his sight or about the impending darkness they will bring if he doesn't give in. 

His throat clogs and he feels like he'll cry if he's not careful. He swallows instead and it tastes like copper and death and he shudders hard, moves his arms to wrap around himself and he shivers as the images come.

Bare skin and Andrew's reverent touch. Bare skin and those boots kicking him. Wet skin and the rain that's pouring down on him. Wet skin and the laughter that will haunt him for the rest of his nights if he lets it creep in too far. Broken glass and a hundred headlights broken and busted. Broken glass and swearing and a whiff of whiskey and a bar in what feels like another life. 

Glass crunches by his thigh and something solid lands in his lap. Neil forces himself to look and finds himself staring down at the cell phone he'd left behind. The bad decision he'd sworn he'd never make again. 

He blinks through the rain dripping off is eyelashes and studies Andrew's passive face. He wonders at what he really is seeing there. Is it anger? Or sadness? Or perhaps complete apathy and Neil's been wrong this whole time. 

Hands help him to his feet and Neil thinks there's something to this, too. Something familiar and yet so foreign he can barely wrap his mind around it. The world fades back to black and his last coherent thought is how he never should have left here. Never should have left _home_.


End file.
